


Survivor

by Johnlocked1895



Series: Random Multi Fandom [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Defense Against the Dark Arts, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Godfather Sirius Black, Harry Potter References, Marauders Friendship, No Tonks/ Remus, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Original Character(s), Post-Deathly Hallows, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Werewolf Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked1895/pseuds/Johnlocked1895
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin is still trying to rebuild his life. Taking up his old post as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher seems like a good idea until he realises that one of his students isn't just interested in the subject he teaches, and Moony shares her curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Leaky Cauldron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I started this in 2016, during one of my Harry Potter phases, but abandoned it because I had no time to keep up with it. I haven't forgotten about it- it's just taking me longer than I thought it would.

“Is she really here on her own?”

The question catches your attention above the buzz of conversation which fills the room and you close over your book. You can't concentrate on Hogwarts: A History knowing that at least one person is probably watching you right now, and that you'd have gotten less attention if you'd found a park bench to sleep on.

But wanting a distraction had been why you'd come down here, and although it's annoying, it's nothing you're not used to. The last three days have been the same. Somebody inevitably approaches your table and tries to initiate a conversation with you, tries to find out why you're here alone, regardless of how cold your glare is.

“She’s old enough,” Tom the barman says as he dries a tankard with the towel draped over his shoulder. “What are you after?”

You grit your teeth as the wizard at the bar glances over at you again, deciding you’ll hex him if he says anything else about you. What does it matter if you’d be expelled from school for it? Being the centre of attention is making you antsy. 

But the wizard returns to his friends, giving you one less thing to think about, one less thing to distract you from what brought you here, to a pub, at Christmas.

Something flickers in your chest. Guilt, maybe, or anger. But it’s only directed at yourself. It was your decision to leave school, your decision to walk out of the house. Your fault your uncle was angry.

“Can I sit there?”

You start when you hear the voice and look up to see who’s blocking the heat from the fire, prepared to tell the wizard from the bar to get lost, but your mouth goes dry when you see that it’s Sirius Black.

“Can I?” He asks, indicating the empty chair beside you. “There’s nowhere else to sit.”

Somehow you manage to nod, years of ignoring your feelings finally coming in useful. It’s this practice which enables you to sit at the same table as the man who’s more or less responsible for your problems without ripping his head off or inflicting as much pain on him as you suffered five years ago in Diagon Alley.

You force in a breath, and tell yourself to get over it. It’s not like Sirius knows who you are or what happened. Nobody does because you’ve never spoken of it. 

He unzips his leather jacket but doesn’t remove it, and it's then you notice the scars on his hands, the dirt under his nails, the same exhaustion on his face which is evident on every single person who survived the Battle of Hogwarts.

It’s not only from the horror of that day, but from the nightmares and the survivor’s guilt because so many people didn’t make it.

“I’m Sirius,” he says, offering you a hand.

You’ve heard stories about him, of course. You don’t just know him from the aged wanted posters which were around when you first visited the wizarding world. You know about his pureblood family which disowned him, about his closeness with James Potter and the legend they left behind at Hogwarts. But that man isn’t the one sitting at your table: that man is gone. This version of Sirius is war-worn and betrayed and battle-hardened, and radiates guilt like heat from the fire beside you, so intense you can’t bring yourself to tell him he’s the reason your mother is dead.

“I’m not,” you reply.

A hint of a smile appears on his face. “Do you always pun on people’s names?”

“I do when the occasion presents itself.”

Sirius laughs. “Wait till you meet Remus, then. You’ll have a field day.”

You’re momentarily distracted from your situation, because you know of only one Remus, and that’s Remus Lupin, your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It’s common knowledge that he’s a werewolf, that his impact on Harry Potter is the reason there’s a law named after him which aims to get work for people affected by lycanthropy, and that at least half the female population of the school are planning on sending him cards on Valentine's Day.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't understand the appeal, but you like your classes too much to join in with their fawning.

“Are you talking about Professor Lupin?” You ask, determined to come across as casual, and not overly interested. 

“You’re his student?”

“He’s a good teacher.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Don’t let him hear you say that. One day back at teaching and he’s prouder than a hippogriff. All he does is bang on about his classes.”

“He doesn’t seem proud,” you say. The idea is hard to accept. Every time you’ve seen your teacher around school, you’ve always gotten the impression that he’s trying to blend in with the walls.

“Oh he is,” Sirius assures you. “You’re lucky you don’t live with him… Speak of the werewolf.” He nods towards the door.

Despite his opinions, there’s a hint of fondness to Sirius’ voice and for the first time in days, you find yourself smiling.

“Get it?”

You watch as Lupin approaches your table, in his usual well-worn green suit and patched, fraying robes of the same colour. 

“Hilarious,” he says, then he gives you a smile. “Hello, Y/N.”

You notice that there a few more scars on his already marked face, but he’s lost the starved, sickly appearance which was present at the start of term.

“Hi,” you say, your face heating up when you realise how high-pitched your voice has gone. 

Lupin, however, doesn’t comment, and sits down beside Sirius.

“I found a student who doesn’t like you,” he declares, nudging you with his elbow. “Right?”

Lupin frowns at you. 

“I said nothing of the sort,” you assure him hurriedly, then decide to retaliate. “Sirius said your ego’s too big.”

“He’s one to talk about egos,” Lupin replies, directing his frown at his friend. “When he’s drunk, he believes inanimate objects insult him.”

“Those stairs called me fat and you know it,” Sirius retorts haughtily, and you laugh.

Then the conversation lapses and they both look at you.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Sirius asks.

You consider lying. You don’t want either of them to know about what happened, especially Lupin. He could very easily go to the school board or Ministry about this, and you don't want to think about what they'd have to say about your situation. 

You shudder at the thought.

“No,” you say. Lying would involve effort, and not blurting out the whole story already takes enough. “I’m staying here until school starts again.”

They exchange glances, and Lupin’s brow furrows as he looks at you again. 

“Don’t you have family to stay with?” He asks.

“I do. I just don’t want to stay with them.”

Another glance.

“Did something happen?” Sirius asks.

“No.”

You make extra sure that you don’t avoid eye contact, don’t fidget, don’t blink too much. Any of that could mean them accepting your answer, or not.

“Then why did you leave school?” Lupin asks. “If you didn’t want to stay with your parents?”

“I changed my mind." You shrug. “I missed the school.”

You look at him since he’s the one who asked the question, but you can tell he’s suspicious, that he doesn’t quite believe you, and you sit with bated breath, waiting for him to say he’ll have to report this to McGonagall. 

But he doesn’t. 

“You could come back with us,” he says eventually. “I’ll owl Professor McGonagall. I’m sure she’ll have no reservations about allowing you back early.”

Why isn’t he interrogating you? Why isn’t he forcing you to talk?

“She wouldn’t be annoyed that I went home and came back so quickly?” 

“You’re a good student,” Lupin replies as he stands. “She’ll understand.”

You watch as he leaves the room, wondering if he knows more than he’s letting on.


	2. Lie

Floo Powder has never been your favourite way to travel, and as you fall out of Professor McGonagall’s fireplace and onto the rug before it, your opinion doesn’t change.

A broom would have been less painful. And definitely less humiliating.

“Miss L/N,” McGonagall greets, her voice without its usual sharpness. 

“Professor,” you reply as you stand, dusting soot from your clothes.

“Hello, Minerva.” Sirius beams as he steps out of the fire without landing on his face.

McGonagall glares at him. “Please remember, Mr Black, that if you make me regret offering you that job, I will personally ensure you regret taking it.”

Sirius just smiles at her and turns to help Lupin take your trunk from the fire.

“And there was me thinking you missed me.” Sirius winks as he saunters from the room.

McGonagall watches his retreating back out of the door before looking over at you. “Remus, will you give us a moment?”

Lupin walks past you without comment, leaving you alone with the Headmistress.

“I was rather surprised when I received the owl,” McGonagall says. “You left school three days ago.”

“I know,” you reply. “But I changed my mind.”

She surveys you through the glasses perched on the edge of her nose, and you hope she’s not going to use Legilimency on you.

“It’s not unheard of for Muggle parents to be unsupportive,” she says after a moment. “In fact, I would be surprised if a Muggleborn student came to this school without having had at least one… disagreement about magic. Do your parents support you, Y/N?”

You don’t correct the assumption. There's been no need to since Voldemort’s followers erased any acknowledgement of Muggleborns, and by not correcting the Ministry, you can avoid the whispers, stares and mollycoddling which you’re certain you would receive if people knew about your parents.

“They’re as encouraging as they can be,” you answer. 

McGonagall nods slowly. “It's perfectly expected, but I do find it rather odd that they allowed you to leave home and stay on your own in a pub- magical or not.”

“My own choice,” you assure her. “I got bored of the lack of magic and went to The Leaky Cauldron because it was closest.”

Her eyes narrow for a few seconds before she nods. “Very well, Y/N. You’d better get down to the hall, dinner will be served soon.”

You leave the room before she can change her mind and question you further, but you stop when you find Sirius waiting out in the hallway. 

“Guess what?” He says when he sees you. He’s wearing a very gleeful expression, not unlike the one Peeves wears when he’s causing havoc. “I’m the new Charms teacher!”

You try to think of something to say but he doesn’t wait for a response, just continues away along the corridor. Probably to share his news with someone else.

You inhale deeply, trying to ignore the stirrings of guilt at not pretending to be more enthusiastic. How can you be happy about this? How can you be happy at the prospect of spending time with the man whose face haunts your nights? Because you doubt your ability to ignore his identity for the duration of a full lesson. 

It takes a few seconds before you realise that your hands are shaking, as they always do when you think about your parents, and you clench them into fists.

Sirius is gone from view now, and it's just as well. He can't know the truth. 


	3. Peeves

“Where’s the stuff on Redcaps?” Tessa, a Ravenclaw with whom you’ve occasionally gotten along, pushes her books along the table, frustrated that her notes have disappeared under all the parchment. “Did you go to that lesson?”

You nod. “Yeah. I've got notes here somewhere. You can copy them if you want but I want your stuff on Boggarts.”

“Don’t have them,” she replies as she takes your Defence Against the Dark Arts notes. “That was flu week. I only got two lines from somebody.”

“What if they come up in our exam?” You ask. You don’t want her to think too hard about flu week, because she’ll remember you weren’t in the hospital wing with everybody else.

Tessa shrugs. “You only need common sense. Anybody who’s got a tiny bit of magic in them knows that a Boggart changes into your worst fear. You just need to make it funny.”

“Make it funny?” You scoff. “Yeah, because that’s so easy.”

She smirks. “Hey, maybe your worst fear will be not knowing how to get rid of the Boggart.”

“Hilarious,” you mutter. 

Tessa sits your notes back on the desk, a thoughtful expression on her face. “If you’re so worried about it, go ask Lupin. I’m sure he’d be up for helping.”

“With the full moon at the end of the week? Yeah, because that’s what he needs.”

You don’t want to think too much about that. He always looked so washed out in the days leading up to the full moon, and you can’t make it worse for him. It’d be like drinking in front of an alcoholic in rehab. 

Madam Pince appears from behind the bookshelf, doing a double take when she sees the piles of books on the desk. 

“You’re still here?” She asks.

“Why? What time is it?” Tessa looks up from her notes.

“Nine o’clock,” the librarian replies. “At night.”

“Oh that’s nothing.” Tessa dismisses the thought away with her quill and returns to writing.

“Is this all… is this for homework?”

You nod, since Tessa’s too preoccupied with copying your notes. “Yes.”

“We’ll put them back,” Tessa assures her. “Don’t worry.”

You get to your feet so fast Madam Pince and Tessa both start.

“I'm going to get food,” you tell your friend. “Don’t lose my notes or I’ll hex you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes, unfazed by your threat, but you don’t stay to ensure she understands that you mean what you say.

Having Madam Pince standing over you reminds you of that day in Diagon Alley, bringing back the terror you felt, the sounds of the screaming you normally only hear at night. You can feel the bodies pressing in, hear the taunts from your mother’s killer as he turned his attention on you.

“BOO!”

You scream when you hear the voice next to your ear, too caught up in trying to block out the memories to pay attention to where you’ve been walking. 

You turn around to see Peeves floating in front of you, surprise clear on his malicious little face when you point your wand at him. Nobody ever does more than shout when he taunts them, but you’re in no mood to deal with him. 

Your heart is racing, hammering painfully against your ribcage as you stare down at the poltergeist whose uncertainty as to how to deal with your reaction is obvious. 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” He asks.

“Go away, Peeves,” you tell him. “Go pick on someone else.”

“So you are going somewhere?” His face lights up. “Where could it be? It’s not for a detention, is it? Little Miss L/N doesn’t get detentions.”

“If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll do something that will get me a month’s worth. Now move it, Casper. I don’t need this right now.”

Lupin appears around the corner, his pace quickening when he notices that you’re waylaid by the resident havoc-maker. 

“Peeves?” 

The poltergeist turn around when he hears the voice. “Loony, loopy Lupin!” He cackles, and soars away.

You’re taken aback by Peeves’ lack of respect for a member of staff, but you wish he’d come back when you see the look of concern on Lupin’s face.

“Are you all right?”

“He jumped out at me." You shrug as if it's nothing, as if you didn't almost try to hex a ghost. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten fed up of harassing people yet,” he says conversationally.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding: he’s not going to force you to talk.

“That’ll be the day Filch retires."

Lupin smiles, then indicates the bag slung over your shoulder. “Studying already?”

“Revising,” you say, and then you remember Tessa’s suggestion. But how can you ask Lupin for help? You know from the research you did after your first argument with a classmate about werewolves and their rights that the closer the full moon is, the more difficult it is for the wolf to be ignored.

Not that you’re afraid of him. You don’t think for one second that Lupin would hurt you. But how could you make things more difficult for him after everything he's already gone through? 

“Is there anything you need help with?” He asks. 

You’re almost certain he knows you don’t want to ask for his help, but at that moment, your bag, stuffed to the brim with books and parchment, bursts, and everything falls onto the floor.

“Damn it,” you mutter as you drop to your knees, trying to grab everything before you can embarrass yourself further.

Lupin kneels beside you and hands you your Ancient Runes book. “Most people use the holidays as a time to relax.”

“Revising helps me do that,” you say as you take it. “Could you pass me that piece of parchment?”

There’s only one piece which drifted along the corridor, and since it’s closer to Lupin and you don’t want to reach over him for it, you watch as he picks it up. 

“Reading helps me in the same way,” he tells you, then his brow furrows. “Where are your notes?”

“What?” You ask, and then he turns the paper towards you and you see that other than the word “Boggart” at the top, it’s blank. “Oh, that…. I…” But you have no excuses. 

“Were you going to ask for help?”

You take the parchment and slide it into your textbook. “Later,” you mumble. You can’t look at him. You don’t want to see his reaction. “I just thought you…”

“Thought what, Y/N?” His tone is no longer congenial and you look up to see that his expression is somewhat strained. You can’t understand it. You haven’t told him your reasons for not asking… unless he’s assumed you’re afraid, like everybody else. 

“That’s not it,” you insist. “I'm not trying to avoid you. It's just... I... I thought you'd want the time to yourself. I didn’t think you’d… I mean I…”

You trail off. He's watching you closely, his eyes fixed on yours, and you're far from terrified by the proximity.

If anything, that wild look in his eyes caused by his assumption you’re implying he’s incapable of controlling himself stirs something just as wild in you, and you’re overcome with the sudden urge to reach out for him.

You stare back, ignoring the tiny, nagging voice in the back of your mind which is telling you this is wrong. You don’t want it to be. This is the first time you’ve been so close to someone in years and it's intoxicating. 

Lupin’s hands clench into fists, muscles taut in the forearms revealed by his rolled up sleeves, and you find yourself trying to imagine what it would be like if he held you, if his hands were on your waist or in your hair or… 

He lets out something akin to a growl and your heart picks up speed. 

“Remus…” 

Lupin blinks, breaking the moment, and he looks confused as he takes in the scene. “Y/N?”

You swallow hard as you realise that it wasn’t Lupin who was just staring at you but Moony, the werewolf you hadn’t wanted to provoke. 

“Will you find a Boggart for me?” You ask quietly. You can’t talk about the moment which just passed, the moment filled with so much tension you’re surprised there wasn’t an explosion. “You know, since I missed that lesson?”

Lupin nods, removing his wand from the inside of his robes and pointing it at your torn bag. “Reparo,” he says, and the fabric mends itself. “I’ll have a look for one.”

Rather quickly he stands, and you can only watch as he takes the stairs two at a time, disappearing from your view. 

You sit back, resting your head against the cold stone wall. What the hell was that?


	4. TMI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm a horrible person. I abandoned you when things were just starting to get interesting.

You’re desperate for food in the morning, so much so that not even the thought of Lupin confronting you over the moment in the corridor can put you off. It was why you had gone to bed rather than to get your notes back from Tessa, but now as you dress, you realise the chances of him talking to you about it are very slim since he all but ran away.

But you hesitate before going into the great hall. You haven’t been able to make sense of last night and you want to before you see Lupin again, but he’s not in the room, and with a mix of relief and disappointment, you make your way over to the Gryffindor table.

There are only a few other students further down the bench , so you're able to sit at the end on your own, content to eat breakfast in silence and try to make sense of your meeting with Moony. But the peace doesn't last long when Sirius arrives.

“Oi, Y/N!” He calls, waving, oblivious to the students whose interest he’s attracted.

You drop your head, your face heating up. Does he really need to shout so loudly?

Sirius drops down into the space beside you, reaching across the table for the jug of pumpkin juice. 

“Morning,” he says, as if this is a perfectly normal occurrence. “This is payback.”

“For what?” You ask, bewildered.

“Whatever you got Remus to do,” he replies. He turns to survey you. “What did you ask him to do?"

“Find a Boggart.”

“Ah.” He begins to load his plate with bacon and scrambled eggs. “That’s why he’s running about like he’s part of the headless hunt. I did think it was strange that he’s leaving his room- I didn’t think it could be for teaching.”

Your guilt from yesterday returns and your appetite is gone. Does he really feel obligated to prove himself to you, that he can teach you with the full moon in a week’s time?

“Between you and me,” Sirius says in a low voice, “Moony’s always restless because Remus never gets any. It’s why he always stays away from people for a few days, but this is different.” He frowns, chewing his bottom lip as he thinks. “Moony’s not giving him a choice.”

That gets your attention.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Sirius is distracted by concern for his friend and so doesn’t notice your interest in a conversation you really shouldn’t be having.

“I mean, every time it’s the full moon, it gets difficult for Remus to control Moony, right?” You nod; you’ve heard that much already from your classes over the years. “But Remus won’t fight or shag anyone because he’s convinced he can’t do it without biting them. So he shuts himself away, and since he doesn’t give into the wolf, it gets pissy. But it’s worse than usual this week. It’s… frustrated.”

Your stomach sinks. It’s your fault. You’re certain it’s your fault. How could it be anybody else’s? He’d growled at you, for Merlin’s sake. Moony had been there, Moony had taken over.

Sirius returns to his breakfast as if you’ve just been discussing the weather, but you don’t get to dwell on how many lines he’s crossed as Lupin arrives, unshaven, pale, and extremely tired.

You feel another wave of guilt and try to make a start on your breakfast, forcing yourself to eat rather than look at what you’ve done to the man who’s had enough bad things happen to him.

“Have you forgotten you're a teacher, Sirius?” Lupin asks when he reaches the table, but he sits across from you nonetheless. “There’s a table up there for us to sit at.”

“By ourselves, you mean,” Sirius replies. “Look at it, Remus- there’s nobody there.”

“Slughorn’s there,” Lupin says.

His friend snorts. “Like that’s going to change my mind.”

You look up, determined not to let Lupin see that you’re bothered by yesterday’s events. 

“I found a boggart for us to practice with,” he says, but he avoids your eye contact. “Professor McGonagall gave me permission to keep it so long as I get rid of it when we’re done.”

You nod. You’ve just remembered one particular version of yesterday’s events which had been edited in your dreams, and your mind is filled with images of Lupin taking you right there in that corridor instead of walking away.

A shiver runs down your spine when Lupin’s eyes meet yours, and you hastily return to your food.


	5. Boggart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm a really horrible person.

Snow covers the ground as you sit on the ledge of the parapet which surrounds the courtyard, watching Tessa as she tries to build a snowman using magic.

“Did you ask?” She queries, extreme concentration on her face. “About the Boggart?”

You nod. “He’s found one. I’m going later to practice. Do you want to come too?”

Tessa splutters, and as her attention has been taken away from the floating snowball, it lands on the ground with a soft thud.

“Damn you,” she says. “That was your fault.”

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You asked if I wanted to practice- with Lupin.”

It takes a few seconds before you realise that she intends it as an innuendo.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. He’s a teacher.”

“A hot one, though,” Tessa replies as she scoops up more snow for another attempt. “I wouldn't mind a couple of detentions if he gave me them.”

“He'd give you lines,” you retort. “And you'd get kicked out of school if you tried anything.”

“Muggle world's still there,” she answers. “And it’d bloody well be worth it.” She grins, and then she heaves a dramatic sigh. “It’s just my luck that he and Professor Black are fighting over you and all you’re worried about is your exams.”

“With good reason. I want to pass them.”

“You could. Just… without studying.” She smirks, leaving no doubt in your mind as to how exactly you’d pass Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“Next time I see him, I’ll be sure to avoid you,” you say as you get up. Your lesson's soon, and if you stay here any longer, there's a good chance your friend's only going to succeed in making things more awkward than they already are.

Tessa's laughter follows you back inside the castle and you’re still trying to ignore the thoughts she’s stirred up when you reach Lupin’s classroom.

You hesitate outside the door, wondering how he'd react if you didn't show up for your lesson, but you knock on the door before you can convince yourself to leave. 

It's the thought of facing a Boggart in your exams that keeps you there.

Footsteps along the corridor pull you out of your thoughts, and you notice the trail of melted snow you've made from the courtyard. Filch will kill you, Christmas Eve or not, if he sees you at the scene of the crime, so without waiting to be invited into the Defence Against the Dark Arts room, you open the door and go in, closing it quietly so as not to give away your hiding place if it is indeed Filch.

The room is cold, that’s the first thing you notice, and the only light is from the sun reflecting off the snow outside.

You pull your cloak around you as you leave the door and cross to the stairs which lead up to Lupin’s office and living quarters. There doesn’t seem to be much activity up there either, and despite your reservations about being here, you feel irritated that he didn’t let you know he wanted to cancel your lesson.

If Moony is bothering him so much, why is he insisting on teaching?

“Y/N?”

You spin around when you hear the voice and see Lupin closing the door you’ve just come through.

“Filch…” you start.

He nods. “I still avoid him.”

You smile at the image of a grown man ducking into alcoves and empty rooms to avoid the caretaker. 

“I wonder if anybody’s Boggart has ever turned into him.”

He laughs as he lights the candles with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think he’d ever forgive us.”

A thudding sound causes you to start and when you look around for its source, you see the large wooden trunk at the far end of the room. You hadn’t noticed it before because you were looking for Lupin, but the sight of it sends a chill down your spine.

What will the Boggart turn into when it sees you?

“Do you have any knowledge of Boggarts?” Lupin asks.

“It assumes the shape of whatever frightens you most,” you reply, recalling Tessa’s brief lecture from the library. “And you can repel it by making it funny.”

“Yes. It’s always better to face it with a group, as it will become confused easily, but… I don’t think you want there to be an audience?”

He looks at you, almost hesitantly, as if unsure of his reasoning, but you don’t see what good can come of telling him you want loads of people to witness this.

"I don't."

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he assures you. “I won’t let anything happen.”

You nod, not taking your eyes away from the hidden boggart. But the words sink in regardless. You believe him.

“Now the incantation is a simple one,” Lupin tells you, his voice somewhat closer. “But it does require force of mind. When that Boggart sees you, it will change into something you fear. All you have to do is remember that it is not real. Whatever it does, whatever form it takes, is not real, and then it’s a simple matter of turning it into something amusing.”

You nod again, your heart slowing to an almost intermittent thud. Your mouth is dry, hands shaking so much you’re not sure how you’ll be able to hold your wand, let alone use it.

“Why don’t you practice the incantation first?” Lupin suggests. “It’s ‘Riddikulus.’ I’ll only be a moment.”

You hear his footsteps going in the opposite direction, away from you, and you take the moment to calm yourself. You repeat his words in your mind, tell yourself nothing can happen because he won’t let it, and then you begin to say the incantation.

“You’ve got it,” Lupin says when he returns. “Are you ready to use it?”

You take in a deep, shuddering breath and take your wand from your pocket. “Yes.”

“Then let’s begin.”

The trunk rattles again, but this time it’s followed by a click as the lock is undone and the lid raises up. 

But nothing happens.

You frown. “What-” you start to ask, but then your uncle steps out from the box.

“Foolish child,” he sneers. “Foolish, foolish girl. What use do you think a wooden stick can have?”

You can’t move, so the gap between you and your uncle is closed quickly as he approaches you.

“Y/N,” Lupin says from what seems like miles away. “Remember what I said.”

What did he say?

“Stupid girl.” You recognise that expression on your uncle's face, that disgust. You know what’s coming next. “You know what you did, don’t you? Don’t deny it. You know what that stupid world is responsible for. If you weren’t in that lane that day-”

“RIDDIKULUS!”

Your uncle becomes a full moon when Lupin jumps in front of you, and then it deflates and whistles around the room and you sink to the floor. 

He saw. Lupin saw. 

“Y/N.” You sense him beside you, then you see him kneel down in your peripheral vision. “It’s gone now. You’re all right.”

You’re not. He saw. He knows you’re not an innocent little Muggleborn. He knows now you did something unforgivable. 

"Here." There's a rustling sound as though of paper and then a snap, and the smell of chocolate fills your nose. "Eat this."

Lupin presses the chocolate into your hands. "Y/N?" 

It's the concern that does it. That brings you back to reality. Because it's coming from someone it shouldn't.

"It's not like that." Your voice is hoarse, faint. "It's-" the words catch in your throat, and Lupin touches your arm.

"You don't need to explain yourself to me."

"But-"

"But nothing." 

You look up at him then, steeled by his assurance. 

"I won't ask for details," he goes on. "But I need to know one thing: is he why you were in the pub when Sirius and I found you?"

You nod. Then because you're overcome with the strange urge to continue: "He lost it. When I went home. He said I wasn't coming back here. He said it was stupid and pathetic and I wasn't having anything more to do with it."

His jaw tightens, but his hand is still on your arm, still gentle. "You're incredibly brave, you know. Carrying this around with you every day. Nobody suspects a thing."

"No braver than you," you reply before you can stop yourself.

Lupin smiles ever so slightly. "You've placed your trust in me several times over the last few days; I think that wins out over anything I can do."

"I told you I wasn't scared of you." You shift slightly on your knees, bringing yourself up a little taller. "I wasn't lying."

"Why?" 

"If you were going to do something, you'd have done it by now." You shrug, then drop your gaze. "I trust you."

His hand comes to your jaw, lifting your chin to make you look at him. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I'm not lying."

"Why, Y/N?" He sounds genuinely perplexed, as if being trusted, as if not being feared, is a strange notion. And it probably is, if the classmates you argue with don't make any secret of their feelings. "Even in the hall when you asked for my help..." He trails off.

"I wasn't scared of you then, either." You place your hand over his, the calloused, scarred skin warm under your own. "I wanted- I wanted..." Oh, what the hell. "You."


End file.
